Voices
by EasternSunflower
Summary: "His wide, dead blue eyes, staring into his beloved Matt's dead green ones. Neither of them said 'I love you' because they couldn't. And because they didn't need to, their eyes said it all." One-Shot, Song-fic. Warnings: Rape, Gore, Angst.


**Author's Note= Whoa, feels like it's been a while. o.o Well, here's something for you. ^^ I do not own this song, nor Death Note.**

**Voices by Saosin**

* * *

><p>Matt scrambled down the ally, his body sluggish, but his mind alert. He was being followed, and he knew it. He wanted to scream, but he knew he shouldn't.<p>

But the ear shattering scream was let loose when the rough hand of a man twice his size grabbed the back of his neck, and others soon followed, covering his mouth and moving all over his body in a mockery of seduction and comfort.

Matt wouldn't cry, he couldn't, not even as they tore his goggles from his face and they were smashed against a wall so hard that they shattered.

He stared at their broken shards, and struggled that little bit harder.

_~  
>I miss the part,<br>__When we were moving forward now.  
><em>_(On our way down)  
>~<em>

Mello frowned, pulling on his coat and boots, checking his cell one more time before heading out the door.

He walked briskly in the autumn chill, watching the rapidly setting sun with a frown. Where the hell was Matt? Just because they had an argument didn't mean that he should just run away.

A scream echoed out onto the silent street from a nearby ally. Mello froze, recognizing the shrill sound. He took off in its direction without thinking.

_~  
>But maybe someday,<br>__I'll be something more than love.  
><em>_Just know I'll never tell.  
>~<em>

"Hey, get the fuck off him!" Mello screamed once he'd spotted the group that was descending upon the small redhead.

His fucking small redhead.

But the blond froze when the cold barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of his head.

"We could hear you coming from a mile away. Damn fashion accessories, eh?" The man with the gun chuckled.

Meanwhile the other men had continued to pull at Matt's clothing, and once that was gone, they really got started.

_~  
>And when you're on your way down,<br>__(Through the clouds)  
><em>_And you're waiting for your body's re-entry again.  
>~<em>

Matt watched in horror as Mello was forced to his knees, the gun held at his head.

Why wasn't Mello doing anything?

But his thoughts were cut short, and a scream ripped itself from his throat as one of his attackers pulled his pants and boxers down before pulling at his shaft, pretending to give a shit about whether Matt enjoyed it or not. Probably for Mello's benefit.

The man began to get frustrated, but pulling harder and gripping tighter the longer that Matt refused to get hard. The redhead bit his lip; he wanted nothing more than to just sink away into nothingness.

"Hey, man, you're doing it wrong." A man above him said, and the harsh yanking on his penis was abruptly stopped. "Any guy can resist a hand-job. But no man can resist a blow job."

The man who had been yanking glared, "I'm not sucking his fucking dick."

"I didn't expect you to. We've got his Romeo right here." The redhead's eyes widened, horrified.

Still with the gun to his head, Mello was pushed forwards. He didn't say anything, he didn't look at Matt. He just leaned forward and took his lover's placid length into his mouth, sucking hard.

Matt gulped, watching Mello's head go up and down on his dick. No matter the situation, the blonde's blow jobs were few and far between. Before he knew it, he was hard and bucking.

_~  
>We speak in different voices,<br>__When fighting with the ones we've loved,  
><em>_We speak in different voices,  
><em>_Why can't we say what we're thinking of?  
>~<em>

Mello smelt Matt's arousal before he felt the redhead harden in his mouth. There was always this certain type of smell that Matt gave off when he was ready to fuck. You needed to be really close to him to smell it, but it was there, like the bastard was in heat.

Soon enough, Mello was yanked back by the hair, and removed from Matt's immediate area.

The blond could barely watch, but he knew he had to. He watched as one of the men spread Matt's legs and thrust in without a care. He listened to the redheads shrieks, and he watched as another man shoved his dick down Matt's throat to shut him up.

It seemed like forever that he watched this pattern, until all six of the men participating were satisfied, leaving the redhead broken and covered in body fluids.

He then watched terrified as one of the men pulled out a large razor blade. Matt didn't see it; he was staring at Mello, tired, weary and begging for help.

The blonde's eyes got larger when Matt's screeched became gurgled with blood as a man slit his throat.

_~  
>I'm missing parts,<br>__Now that you've told me everything,  
><em>_(On our way down)  
>~<em>

The redhead's eyes widened; and he screamed as a pain pierced his neck. All his instincts were telling him to run, to fight back, but he knew that logically that would only get him killed faster.

His screaming continued until it was forced into a gurgling by the blood that ran down his windpipe. His mind reeled, and he came to the conclusion that the weird feeling in his chest that was causing him to panic like no other emotion he'd felt before, was in fact him drowning in his own blood.

He vaguely felt himself hit the floor, but his gaze drifted up to Mello. If he was going to die here, he wanted the last thing he saw to be his Mihael.

_~  
>And I was blessed,<br>__And I've forgotten how to love,  
><em>_You said you'd never tell.  
>~<em>

Mello's eyes were wide, unblinking, and he wasn't sure if they were watering or not.

Matt had hit the ground, and was staring at him with the most bizarre look. The blonde saw the redhead's mouth move, but only a small guttural noise came out. The light was fading from Matt's eyes.

He felt tears well up, but refused to admit that they were there. This couldn't be happening.

But it was.

He needed to say something, anything; he opened his mouth, but was frozen when he saw his Mail's body twitch before the last blood bathed breath the young redhead would ever take left his body.

Mello wanted to scream, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to cry.

A loud noise filled the blonde's ear, and the only thing he saw was green.

Then it was silent.

_~  
>And when you're on your way down,<br>__(Through the clouds)  
><em>_And you're waiting for your body's re-entry again.  
>~<em>

No one moved, and no one breathed, if only because they were in a graveyard and none of them needed nor could breathe or move.

What each and every one of them wouldn't give to be able to breath in life again, to be able to move, to tell the ones they loved goodbye and goodnight.

But none of them regretted both dying and living as they had, as the two young men in unmarked graves beside each other did.

But they'd have told you that they wouldn't have changed it for anything.

And that would be them lying through their teeth.

_~  
>We speak in different voices,<br>__When fighting with the ones we've loved,  
><em>_We speak in different voices,  
><em>_Why can't we say what we're thinking of?  
>~<em>

Because if they could go back, there would be so many things that they would have changed.

Things that could have saved them, things that could have saved others; and most of all, things that could have saved the other.

_Not even I will tell…_

Had it been worth dying?

If you asked the older blond boy, he would have told you 'yes' without hesitation. Without thinking about it. Without acknowledging the truth.

If you asked the younger redhead, he wouldn't have answered you at all.

So, had it really been worth dying?

If we made a difference, maybe then it would have been. But a difference to what? To who?

Because as far as I can tell, the only person who they would have wanted to alter the fate of, was laying stone cold beside them.

_~  
>We speak in different voices,<br>__When fighting with the ones we've loved,  
><em>_We speak in different voices,  
><em>_We say these things to know they're real.  
>~<em>

Maybe if he'd known that the blond was going to die no matter what he did, then the redhead may have put up more of a fight. Maybe he wouldn't have let them take him down so easily, gave them what they wanted.

Then maybe, even if he himself were to die as well, then we wouldn't have died with the autopsy diagnosis of "Bled to death; signs of rape and assault".

Maybe if he had gone out that night, then said lover wouldn't have had to go out looking for him.

_~  
>We speak in different voices,<br>__When fighting with the ones we've loved,  
><em>_We speak in different voices,  
><em>_Why can't we say what we're thinking of?  
>~<em>

Maybe if he'd known that there were other men who so desperately desired the redhead, as he did, then the blond would have never let his partner out of the house. Maybe he wouldn't have fought with the gamer; maybe he wouldn't have spat ugly words like "slut" and "failure" at his green-eyed lover.

Maybe he wouldn't have had to die with the tag "Single gun-shot to the back of the head; angle points to execution style".

Maybe he wouldn't have been forced to watch other men brutally rape and break his lover. Maybe he wouldn't have been so helpless, maybe he'd have gotten over his pride for once and told younger boy that he had lied; that the redhead was worth more than the way that he was being treated, that he was just worth so much more than the blonde.

If only the older boy had known that they would both die that night, maybe then he would have desperately tried to save his lover's soul, to tell him beautiful things as he watched with watering eyes as the life slowly drained from the once vibrant green eyes that had been fixated on him.

Maybe, if he'd known, then he would have let the tears fall, maybe he would have cried.

Because god knows he damn well earned that right.

_~  
>We speak in different voices,<br>__When fighting with the ones we've loved,  
><em>_We speak in different voices,  
><em>_We speak in different voices.  
>~<em>

Maybe the two would have whispered I love you, and been able to be at peace, knowing that they had told the other what had needed to be said.

But Matt and Mello never got the chance.

Matt's strength faded too soon, he tried to speak, but no words came out.

Mello tried to speak, but Matt's eyes had faded too soon.

Then, by cruel intentions, and harsh sounds, and horrendous scenes; before Mello could utter his last words to his beloved, the shot rang out, and his corpse fell to the ground. His wide, dead blue eyes, staring into his beloved Matt's dead green ones.

Neither of them said "I love you" because they couldn't. And because they didn't need to, their eyes said it all.

_~  
>To know they're real.<br>__Real.  
><em>_I'll never…  
>~<em>


End file.
